


Weaver's Sail

by HistoriaGloria



Series: Convergence of Fears [2]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bit of a character study on Hamid, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone is an Avatar, Gen, Lonely!Zolf, Web!Hamid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoriaGloria/pseuds/HistoriaGloria
Summary: How does an avatar of The Web convince an avatar of the Lonely to ally himself with him?
Series: Convergence of Fears [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696324
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Weaver's Sail

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!!  
> So, this is a prequel to my other RQG avatars fic, Convergence of Fears, explaining a bit of Hamid and Zolf's previous interactions!  
> I really hope you enjoy it, again, Web!Hamid has been so much fun to write.
> 
> Thank you so much to kristsune who continues to help me write all this stuff.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who read and commented and left kudos on Convergence of Fears, so glad you enjoyed it!

Hamid hates this.

He’s cornered, back to the wall of a truly dirty alleyway and if he wasn’t possibly moments away from being torn limb from limb, he would be disgusted.

But as it is, he is in a spot of bother.

Hamid has only being in full service to The Mother of Puppets for a little over a month now and his powers are beginning to develop.

That and several sets of eyes, which he tries to keep closed, so as not to draw attention to himself.

He has always been an excellent liar, very good at getting _just_ what he wants, but he has only been part of The Web for such a short period. It’s _exhilarating_. His silver tongue has been gilded, his senses sharpened, his mind quicker than ever before.

But not quick enough.

The avatar of the Slaughter who has managed to corner him is not going to back down, Hamid knows that. The man’s pupils are pinpricks through the fury, a kitchen knife gripped in his hand. If Hamid concentrates, he can hear the haunting swan song of the Slaughter, driving this man to attack whatever he can. He would say that it was an unfortunate coincidence that this man has managed to catch him, but Hamid is of The Mother. Nothing is a coincidence.

A test, from one of the other avatars of The Web, maybe? To make sure that Hamid is strong enough.

Honestly, it doesn’t really matter right now. There is nowhere to go and whilst Hamid’s tongue is gold, the Slaughter hardly cares for words, as sweet as he can make them. It doesn’t mean he won’t try though.

“Now, now. I’m really not worth your time. Go find another,” he drawls, feeling the tugs on the threads around him. But the man does not even flinch at Hamid’s manipulations, continuing to prowl forwards. Hamid’s back is against the wall.

He doesn’t know how death will work by this point. He’s no longer human, that he knows. But he’s fairly certain he can be killed, especially by another avatar.

“Come along now, I’m not worth it,” he says, voice high-pitched and reedy with fear. The avatar of the Slaughter laughs, a cold, rough sound as he points the blade straight towards Hamid’s throat.

“Stop squealing, little spider. For an avatar, you really are rather scared,” he growls, making a swipe at Hamid’s throat, but he’s far too fast for him. The move is so easy to spot and shift away from. But Hamid isn’t strong and for all of the Mother’s help with telegraphing his enemy’s moves, he will tire quickly.

He’s caught.

He’s trapped.

Panicking, he reaches out with the Mother’s connections, hoping to find a string he can tug to distract the Slaughter, something he can use to hide with, _anything._

What he finds is cold, damp and cloying, like sea fog clinging to the cliffside.

The Forsaken.

And despite the fact that The Mother of Puppets and The One Alone don’t exactly get along, Hamid _pulls._

A short bearded man appears beside him, scowling viciously.

“Web, what do you think you’re doing?” growls the avatar of the Lonely that Hamid has dragged into reality.

“ ** _Help,_** ” he begs, throwing all his manipulative power into it as the avatar of the Slaughter swipe again, catching Hamid just under the jaw and drawing blood.

“Get out of here, Forsaken, this isn’t your fight,” spits the Slaughter, gesturing sharply with his knife. The avatar of the Lonely rolls his eyes, cold blue like the sea itself, and grabs Hamid’s shoulder. And, a moment later, they are no longer stood in a dark alley, but on an empty beach.

“What was all that about?” grunts the bearded man. “You can’t just pull someone into your fight.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Hamid gasps, holding his hand to the cut on his jawline. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” His silver tongue is beginning to be of use again, to weave his lies and manipulations.

“Well you did, Weaver,” the man says coldly and Hamid shudders. He likes the nickname ‘Weaver’. “But you still haven’t explained yourself.”

“The individual would not leave me alone and I’m, ah, still new to all this. I’m so sorry, may I enquire as to your name?” The avatar of the Lonely scowls a little.

“Yours first, Weaver.”

“Hamid,” Hamid replies easily, with an attempt at a relaxing smile. There is a pause and then,

“Zolf,” comes the reply. “Or The Sailor.”

“Thank you so much, Zolf,” Hamid purrs, laying on the charm. “Without you, I would likely be dead.”

“You would be dead,” Zolf says, deadpan. “You’re new to being an avatar? You can tell.” Hamid wilts a little, opening the extra sets of eyes.

“That’s not very nice,” he mutters, glancing around the Forsaken. “Thank you for taking me out of there.” Zolf heaves a sigh but nods a little.

“You’re welcome, I suppose. I’ll drop you out near the nearest tube station.”

“I really appreciate it, Zolf,” Hamid says eagerly as the man begins to walk into the thick mists, leaving Hamid to hurry after him.

“Don’t mention it,” comes the reply, fading as Hamid continues to walk, finding himself walking from soft beach sand to the concrete of London. He grins a little, feeling the familiar thrum of a connected thread as he heads down into the underground. Connected to Zolf, The Sailor, avatar of the Lonely who had just saved his life.

* * *

Hamid does not see Zolf again for just over four months.

He has begun to make a name for himself as The Weaver, known for his ability to manipulate at short range, for his gilded words and playful smile.

He’s out in the suburbs of London, toying with a family, just for the fun of it. He is drawing out one of their children, slowly, to the Web when another one of his threads twitches.

Zolf, The Sailor, is nearby.

And Hamid grins. With a twist of his fingers and a shuffle of a couple of mild coincidences, Hamid has set them up for another meeting. He heads off, a grin on his face, ready to work a little more of his magic.

“Weaver,” Zolf sighs when he finds himself on the end of a street, staring at Hamid as he appears opposite. “What are you doing?”

“Saying hello, Zolf. And please, call me Hamid,” he replies easily, batting all eight sets of eyelashes at him. Zolf huffs, but nods.

“Fine. Are you going to leave me alone?”

“Oh, I’m not going to intervene with anything, dear. I just wanted to say hello. Offer to buy you coffee.”

“Why.” It isn’t even a question really from Zolf’s tone. Hamid just smiles, wide and easy.

“Because you saved my life four months ago. I owe you that much.” There is a long pause whilst Zolf stares at him, with those eyes the colour of the sea in the depths of winter.

“… Fine,” he mutters. Hamid beams. He’ll win over Zolf eventually, even if the One Alone is a difficult nut to crack.

Coffee is almost mundane, for two monsters which serve the Dread Powers. They sit opposite each other whilst Hamid sips on an overly sugary latte and Zolf drinks a simple white coffee. They’re both quiet for a while.

“How long have you been part of the One Alone?” Hamid asks, unobtrusively.

“Around ten years,” Zolf replies and when he speaks, Hamid can hear waves crashing on an empty beach. It’s fairly relaxing actually. “You’re new to the Web, aren’t you?”

“Mm, I first interacted with it as a child, but I’ve been in service to The Mother for almost six months now.” Zolf huffs a little, sipping his coffee.

“You’re very accomplished.” Hamid’s smile goes wide and wry.

“I’ve been close to the Web for a while. Always been good at talking.” Zolf huffs a little and rolls his eyes, but Hamid only smiles.

“I see.”

They talk quietly for a little while, general discussion, not giving too much away about each other, but Hamid is pleased. They swap soft stories of before their changes and Hamid spins some lovely lies about a family he never had. Reality is not so much an issue for him. Zolf talks of the sea, of how it drew him into the Lonely and how it still does. As the conversation drags on, they both grow more relaxed, exchanging anecdotes with ease and Hamid smiles to himself. He knows that is managing to worm his way into Zolf’s good books, slowly, slowly.

* * *

The next time he meets Zolf, it is a little more purposefully of his manipulation. Zolf has been away, either in the Forsaken or far away from Hamid for a while, so when he returns close enough to cause a ripple in Hamid’s web, it’s exciting.

It’s been just over a year.

Hamid has been making connections, namely with The Lady of the Peaks, Azu, and The Alchemist, Cel. The Vast and The Spiral aren’t exactly usual alliances for The Mother of Puppets, but Hamid by nature is a diplomat. He’s good at making friends and he’s always going to be.

So, when Zolf reappears on his radar, Hamid plucks the right strings and soon enough, they find themselves outside the same café as half a year ago.

“Weav-Hamid.” Zolf says and Hamid beams, his eight eyes fixed on him.

“You’ve been gone a while, Zolf,” he says gently. “I was beginning to miss you.” Zolf blinks, looking confused at the idea that anyone could miss him. “Come on, let’s get a coffee, yes?”

Zolf lets himself be led in, bought a coffee and sat down. They share bland conversation for a few minutes but they both know that they are skirting around what the both actually want to know.

“What do you want?” Zolf manages to be the one to ask and Hamid smiles, as slick as oil on water.

“Alliances. Something big is coming, dear Sailor and The Mother wants to be prepared for it.”

“The One Alone does not exactly do alliances.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. The Lukases have been funding Magnus for years. And I have no love for the Ceaseless Watcher.”

“What are you planning, Hamid?” presses Zolf and Hamid’s smile only gets more slippery.

“Nothing drastic. Just some friendships.” Zolf rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I don’t do _friends_.”

“Simple alliance then. I’ll call on you when I need you. And be there when you need me.”

“Why would I agree, Weaver?” Hamid looks hurt at the use of his title not his name.

“Because you will need me, Sailor. There will be a time when you can’t get out of something and you’ll need my silvered tongue. But this is not a long-standing offer.”

“Is that a threat?” Zolf asks quietly and Hamid huffs, affronted.

“It is a reality, Zolf Smith. Do you want my help or not?” The pause is long, icy cold.

“It is not in my nature. Weave your own webs, Hamid, but keep me out of it.” He scowls and finishes his coffee.

“As you wish,” Hamid bites back, his own tone razor sharp. Zolf doesn’t even say goodbye; he simply fades into The Forsaken and Hamid huffs frustratedly. Maybe the One Alone was not the best choice for an alliance.

* * *

Hamid had not intended his statement about Zolf needing help out of a tricky situation to come true so quickly.

It’s been three weeks since his slight spat with the Sailor. He wasn’t expecting to see him, honestly. Hamid’s in Oxford, pulling on a couple of less interesting strings when Zolf’s thrums in the back of his mind. He scowls a little but follows the thread. He still wants to be helpful even if Zolf doesn’t want that. It doesn’t take him long to find him, following the warm tug on his strings until he finds the Sailor.

Zolf is curled up in an alleyway, hands pressed to his chest and Hamid scowls.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Sailor?” Hamid sighs and Zolf looks up. He is pale, wavering between being solid and being in the Forsaken.

“Weaver?” Zolf’s voice is barely audible and there is almost, _almost_ a twinge of worry in Hamid’s web-encased heart.

“What did you do?” Hamid presses, trying to work out what the best thing to do in this situation is.

“Filth,” he mutters in response and Hamid curses quietly. The Corruption and The Lonely are often in opposition to each other.

“Did it get you?”

“No, but I will,” comes a hissing voice from the other side of the alley and Hamid turns, all eight of his eyes fixing on the avatar dragging itself forward. It’s form is humanoid, but sickened with boils and cysts. Hamid doesn’t hide his disgust.

“Go away,” Hamid says, letting his voice drip with malice and power, so much so that Zolf beside him shudders. The Corruption halts, scowling down at him.

“Web. What are you doing getting involved?”

“What I do best, _getting involved,_ ” Hamid spits, tugging on the strings of his webs ever so slightly. “Go away.”

“Why do you care for this one?”

“I don’t. I was nearby. I decided to get _involved._ And now, you’re threatening me. So, _go away_ before I make that lovely song that your filth sings _silence itself_.” Hamid speaks slowly, emphasising every word just enough to cause the avatar to shudder. This is what he is good at, able to force people into exactly what he wants.

“Fine,” spits the Corruption, beginning to slink back into the rubble at the back of the alley. Hamid watches with eight cold eyes until he can no longer sense the avatar. Then, he turns back to Zolf, who is solid once more.

“Uh, thanks,” he mutters gruffly.

“Don’t mention it,” Hamid says primly, brushing down his suit imperiously. They are both quiet for a long moment, Zolf focusing on remaining in the real world.

“So, um, that alliance you mentioned a few weeks ago,” Zolf speaks, his voice stilted and awkward. Hamid looks at him, arching his eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Would, ah, would that offer be still on the table?”

Hamid smiles, slick and smooth and holds out one hand, a small spider scurrying up his fingers into his jacket sleeve.

“It can be, Zolf Smith, The Sailor, part of The One Alone.” Zolf nods, taking the hand without making eye contact.

“I accept, Hamid, The Weaver, part of The Web.”

And Hamid’s smile grows.

That’s another avatar to add to his little convergence of fears.

**Author's Note:**

> Come bother me, historiagloria on tumblr and twitter!


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